Reflection
by Simple Songwriter
Summary: It's an addiction. It has been an addiction for over 7 years. I want to stop, but you're not helping me. I thought that my inner subconscious was supposed to be on MY side... Rated M for harsh language and some self-mutilation


**A/N: This is a little story that has been playing in my head for a while, and I finally got around to putting it onto paper/online. The first section here has at least two people talking. But it's up to the reader to determine how many there really are. The rest of it is pretty self-explanatory. I hope you guys like it.**

**DISCLAIMER: I, Simple Songwriter, do NOT own Yu-Gi-Oh or any of the characters**

**

* * *

**"Hey, did you hear about that one girl? Y'know that quiet one that just sits in the music and dance hallway all the time?"

"Yeah, what about her?"

"I heard she was gonna kill herself at prom."

"No way!"

"Yeah, totally. She couldn't find a date, so she was gonna kill herself in the bathroom."

"Who did she ask?"

"I don't remember everyone who she asked. But it was like…eleven different guys. They all turned her down."

"Did she ask you?

"No. But I wouldn't have gone with her anyways. She's a bitch."

"Wow…She was ACTUALLY gonna kill herself because she couldn't find a date? Wow. How pathetic. How did you find out about this?"

"A friend of a friend. But still, isn't it obvious? All those times she pulls down on her sleeves in class and stuff. She's one of those faggy emo-kids that cuts themselves."

"What a train-wreck."

"Haha, yeah. Personally, I would've found it funny if she actually killed her—"

"SHH! Dude shut the fuck up! She's right there."

"Haha, oops! You think she heard me?"

"I dunno. Who cares?"

* * *

(Sigh…Keep your head up. You'll be fine. Just ignore those people and get to your car. What do they know anyways?)

Wait…Did they just say that I was gonna kill myself at prom? Where the hell did THAT come from? Shit. The damn school's administration doesn't seem to hold up to their "privacy statements" and "promises." I got framed for something that hadn't even crossed my mind. Why does this kind of stuff always happen to me? I don't get it…I didn't do anything wrong. Did I? Oh no…Where did these teardrops come from?

(FOCUS! Get to your car now or people will start asking questions again.)

* * *

(Alright. You're safe now. Just walk up the stairs and into your bedroom. No questions asked. Good. Shut the door. Good. Now you can cry it out. No one will see you. No one will hear you. You're safe. You're alone. But that's just the way you want it. Listen up! Do you hear that? The garage just opened. That means that mom is home. Turn off the waterworks and go splash some water on your face or…GO TAKE A SHOWER.)

* * *

(Ah…a nice hot shower. It feels good AND there's no need to worry about getting caught crying.)

"*knock knock knock* Hey girl, I'm gonna go to the store. Want to come with?"

"No thanks, mom. I have a lot of homework and stuff."

"Okay. Do you need anything?"

"Not that I can think of."

"Okay. We'll be back in a few hours."

"Okie dokie. Have fun."

(She's gone. You're by yourself again. Now get out of the shower. You're turning into a prune. Dry yourself off. Dammit! You haven't stopped crying yet? Grow a pair already, will ya?! Go get dressed. Good. Hang up your towel. Good. No. NO. Don't stop in front of that—dammit…)

* * *

_Mirror, Mirror on the wall;  
your glass as pure as ice.  
You watch me cry and suffer  
More sadness, you entice._

_Mirror, Mirror on the wall;  
why do you hurt me so?  
Your stare - so cold and evil  
Why won't you let me go?_

_Mirror, Mirror on the wall,  
you see me torn inside.  
You see a darker beauty -  
a toxic suicide._

_Mirror, Mirror on the wall,  
you truthful, evil thing.  
You've broken me, now I break you  
my fist will cause your sting._

_Mirror, Mirror on the wall,  
you make me want to bleed.  
I can't escape you anymore  
You're what my sorrow needs._

_Mirror, Mirror on the wall  
who will not let me be;  
Take my life, my blood, my soul  
So that I may be free..._

* * *

I don't need to do this…I'll be fine. It's just really tough right now. And my damn reflection isn't helping me any.

(So get rid of it then.)

No. It's gonna be there no matter what I do.

(Walk away from the mirror.)

I can't bring my legs to move though.

(If you're gonna keep standing here, you're gonna keep feeling all of these hurtful feelings. So do yourself a favor and go back to your room.)

I know I should. But I can't.

(I can fix the reflection that you're seeing…)

W—What? How can you do that?

(Touch the mirror.)

Why?

(Just do it. It feels cold, doesn't it?)

Yeah. But when doesn't a mirror feel cold?

(You didn't touch the mirror. You touched your reflection. Your reflection is the cold one. It doesn't just reflect your outer image. It reflects your inner image too.)

"I'm that cold…?"

(Yes. But I can take care of that for you. I can fix that reflection of yours.)

Okay. Fine.

(Just let it happen. Don't fight me.)

Wait…What are you doing? What the hell is…NO!

(Just trust me. Now…GO!)

Shit…What were you thinking?! There's broken glass everywhere! My wrist…There are shards of broken glass in it too. I gotta find tweezers and then something to wrap this up with.

(I was thinking exactly what you were thinking.)

It's about time I stopped listening to you already.

(You and I both know that that's not going to ever happen. Now go hide your shame.)

* * *

I think I got all the glass out. I **hope** I got all the glass out…I'm done cleaning up the shattered glass in the bathroom. I don't wanna go through that again.

(We both know that it had to be done.)

SHUT UP! I'm not listening to you anymore.

(You can't help it. You're a train-wreck. And you know damn well that you enjoyed every little bit of pain that the mirror caused you.)

No, I didn't. It hurt a lot.

(But it was a good kind of hurt.)

There's no such thing as a "good hurt."

(Betcha it didn't hurt nearly as much as it does to hear what those people were saying about you at school today.)

That was a cheap shot.

(You're worthless. You're fat. You're ugly. You're just a useless waste of space. You're an empty vessel that's just headed straight for the grave. You're that faggy emo-kid.)

Kindly shut up now.

(That further proves my point. I win.)

Keep thinking that.

(I will.)

* * *

(You know you can't ignore me forever.)

…

(I know you can't ignore me forever.)

…

(I know you want to even things out a bit.)

…huh?

(Your wrist—I know that you want them to be as evenly messed up.)

No, I don't.

(Yes you do. I can tell by the way you are touching your good arm. You want to do something to it because it feels bare.)

…

(I'll take the silence as a "yes.")

…

(I know you more than you know yourself. Don't try to escape this. You aren't going to win. You never have, and you never will.)

I've stopped before. I can stop n—

(Yeah, but you always start back up again. So why bother trying?)

I'll beat it eventually. I know I can.

(I'd go tell you to look at yourself in the mirror, but that wouldn't do much good at this point in time. Face it though. You used to be innocent and pure and stuff, but ever since you picked up that sewing needle and cut yourself for the first time, you haven't been the same. There's no going back to what you were. This is the life that you lead now. It's your own damn fault.)

I know full well that it's my fault! If I could change things, I would've never cut in the first place. But I can't. So I'm fighting this damn thing off. If I stopped listening to you for a change, I would be much better off.

(Keep dreaming, kiddo. But don't dream too wild or you'll run right into the barrier that you set up for yourself.)

…

(I see that I "struck a chord" in you.)

…

(Just do it this one last time. You're determined that you'll stop, so what's the harm?)

I just…I don't want to keep doing this. It's swallowed up over 7 years of my life now. I missed out on so many opportunities because of this. I don't want it to drag me down anymore.

(It's here to help you. It's here to make you feel better. You like to not feel stressed, I presume.)

Yeah…

(The razor—it's right there. Just pick it up and use it. You'll feel better.)

Sigh…just this one last time. That's all I need this for. Just this one last time…

(…)

…

(Do you feel better now?)

…

(Hello?)

…

(You're not dead. You're still breathing.)

…

(It was deep this time. I'm proud of you. But it wasn't deep enough.)

…

(Do you feel better?)

…

(Don't pull this "silent-treatment" crap on me.)

…

(Answer my question. Do you feel better?)

…

(Well?)

I feel so…

* * *

**A/N: What didja guys think? Please review this for me, I'd really appreciate it!**


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